


Outta My System

by bloodiedknees



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, this is the cute au we all deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodiedknees/pseuds/bloodiedknees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I see you got stood up and I feel bad for you so let's have a drink AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outta My System

Raphael Santiago would never describe himself as softhearted. He was prone to sarcasm and held a general distaste for the rest of the population, except for a select few. He was jaded, as his mother loved to say, too cynical for his own good. Raphael didn’t mind being cold, it kept him grounded and levelheaded, and he preferred eking out a lonelier existence than most would enjoy. It was a culmination of all this that would’ve made Raphael immune to the pang of sympathy he felt at the sight of a skinny figure sitting alone in a booth.

He had been there for a while, Raphael noticed. The bowl of complimentary peanuts was destroyed, the shells strewn across the table like fallen soldiers on a battlefield, and the ring of water around his beer bottle was slowly reaching the edge, threatening to slip off at any moment. The man’s fingers kept a steady beat against the seat cushion, making his anxiousness public to anyone with a sense of hearing.

Raphael struggled for a moment at the bar, the towel in his hand poised purposefully over the oak counter. The idea of walking over to him went against every one of his normal tendencies. Raphael didn’t do stuff like this: swoop in and save some guy that got stood up. He wasn’t nice like that. He was distant and unfeeling and stuck behind the bar where he liked to be.

_Never cross the bar_ , his first boss told him. _It only makes shit worse._

He’d lived by that mantra since he started and hadn’t yet broken the boundary between him and the customer. But _fuck_ if a little part of him didn’t want to step on the other side and save this stranger from waiting alone in a bar for someone who just wasn’t coming.

Raphael set his jaw and flipped the towel over his shoulder. He was going to do this. He was going cross the bar in some twisted effort to make this other man feel better.

“ _Dios_ ,” he whispered. “When did I get a fucking heart?”

He grabbed a fresh bottle of beer and headed towards the edge of the bar, hesitating at the border between tiled floor and carpet. He didn’t break the rules. Especially not for skinny boys wearing Star Wars shirts who kept pushing up their glasses up their noses every five seconds. Yet the urge to walk over and sit down in front of him engulfed Raphael, and he took the irreversible step across the border between the safety of the bar and the wilds of the serving area.

He weaved his way between the seated figures, his fingers white-knuckled on the beer bottle. No one turned in their seats to watch him pass; no one seemed to notice that he had abandoned his post at the bar; no one cared that he’d just broken the one rule that had been the backbone of his job for all these years.

Raphael slid into the seat in front of the man and set down the beer. “Here.”

He turned from his post at the window, his fingers pausing for the first time in an hour on the chair cushion. “What?”

“It’s a fresh beer.” Raphael pointed at the old bottle, “That one must be warm by now.”

The other man looked down at the bottle as though it was the first time he’d really laid eyes on it, “Oh. I like my beer warm.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Fine.” He pulled the beer towards him and took a swig before turning to look at him again. “Who ever you’re waiting for isn’t coming.”

“They’re coming. They’re just late.”

“An hour and half late.”

“Traffic is bad.”

Raphael sighed deeply, finding that he was beginning to regret the decision to make his way over and comfort this petulant stranger. “Whatever. Believe what you want.”

He made a move to get out of the booth when a hand shot out to stop him. “I’m sorry, it’s just – it was a first date and I wanted to hold on to some semblance of hope, you know?”

Raphael settled back into the cushions and shrugged, “Whoever she is, she made a big mistake.”

The stranger grinned at him from across the table, his hand darting up to press his glasses higher on his nose. “Whoever _he_ is.”

That broke Raphael’s cold exterior and a slight smile touched his lips. He grabbed at the beer bottle before him - suddenly nervous - his fingers dancing along the sides.

“I’m Simon. Simon Lewis. You?”

“Raphael Santiago.”

The crinkles around Simon’s eyes deepened and his smile grew wider, “You save stood up guys often, Raphael?”

Raphael smirked, looking up from beneath his lashes. “Only the pretty ones.”

Simon ducked his head and Raphael could see a slight blush inching up his neck. It was cute. Raphael never went for the kind of men that got flustered at compliments. He usually aimed for the ones who we’re disinterested and fully aware of their beauty; it made the hate sex much easier. But there was Simon, sitting across from him, smiling and blushing and falling over himself to form a thank you, and Raphael melted. If tonight was one of firsts, why wouldn’t falling for the man in the Star Wars shirt and flannel be on the list?

“You want to get a drink sometime?” Raphael asked. “Other than here.”

Simon fidgeted with the edge of his flannel, the blush on his cheeks increasing. “I’d love that.”

Raphael hid his triumphant smile in the bottle of beer. Maybe crossing the bar wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first saphael fic / my first fic in 3000 years, so i'm getting into the swing of things again with fluff. come talk to me about gay vampires on tumblr (@boyeuga) any time!


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